thought.
After breakfast he would forego sleep a bit longer. An old friend, an under-grad in pre-law until his senior year, was now a newspaper editor. Maybe he could help him figure out this puzzle.
***
Daniel worked for The Riverfront Times , a weekly rag supported mainly by advertisements for strip clubs and bars that were handed out free to the public. Occasionally it broke a real news story. In the world of journalism, it was a by-line for Daniel, something that would look good on his resume in retrospect. In reality, it was nothing more than a regular paycheck.
Mike had hoped to catch him at the office. After leaving three voice-mail messages, he was almost asleep when Daniel returned his call. Shaking off the cobwebs, they agreed to meet for a late lunch downtown.
After the waitress with a purposefully exposed cleavage left them alone to eat their toasted ravioli and pizza, they were able to talk.
“Sorry about your dad,” Daniel said through a mouthful deep fried pasta.
“Shit happens,” Mike said. He took a slice from the pizza, but had lost his appetite. “I need you to help me with something, if you can.”
“Yeah, man. Anything.”
“I’m not sure if this is legit.”
“Where I work, that’s our specialty.”
“I want to know if you can find out about a case my Dad would have worked. It’s probably nothing and I doubt you will find anything.”
“So what,” Daniel said as he let out a smelly belch. “I spend most of my day going over copy written by amateurs that wouldn’t be taken seriously by a comic book publisher. I’ll run your dad through all the databases. You would be surprised. We all leave digital footprints. Things you wouldn’t have thought anybody could know are somewhere. It’s a matter of looking in the right place.”
“Thanks, Dan,” Mike said.
“Your dad was a great sheriff. I’m sure I’ll find a ton of stuff.”
Mike almost corrected his friend then stopped himself. His use of the past tense in reference to his father was not that far from wrong.
***
Mike was barely able to get four hours of sleep before his shift. After a quick shower, he threw on jeans and a t-shirt despite the cool northerner coming in. The light jacket that had seemed overkill a couple days before now couldn’t keep him warm.
Quickly walking into the hospital room, worried he was late, he felt little relief in arriving ten minutes early.
“Sorry”, Mike said trying to apologize. “I overslept.”
Uncle Henry was once again kicked back with his boots on the bed. He was reading one of the books Mike had brought with him last night. A paperback Mike had grabbed without much thought from the ‘Oprah’ section about two brothers who sell knives door-to-door for a living. Hell, if she liked it, there was fifty-fifty shot he might as well.
Dog-earing the page to mark his place, Uncle Henry looked his nephew over.
“It’s dang near winter, fella. Where’s your coat?”
“How’s Dad doing?”
“No change.”
Mike wanted to know more.
“Did he say anything?”
“Oh, sure,” Uncle Henry said falsely, “he said if you see that know-it-all boy of mine, tell him to get a coat from my closet.”
“Funny,” Mike said, “you should take that act on the road.”
“Believe I will,” Uncle Henry said. While he put on his coat, he kept hold of the book, shoving it through the sleeve. The pages curled into a thick half-circle. Its cover was now misshapen and creased. Mike almost laughed aloud thinking about how distraught the librarian would be at seeing this.
“Mind if I hang on to this?” Uncle Henry asked waving the book.
“Might as well.”
After he gave his uncle a playful bear-hug goodnight, he took over in the chair. Five minutes into his shift, Mike fell asleep.
***
Mike awoke with a start. He didn’t realize how tired he truly had been. Mad at himself for it, he reconciled his thoughts of inadequacy by vowing to not allow
After breakfast he would forego sleep a bit longer. An old friend, an under-grad in pre-law until his senior year, was now a newspaper editor. Maybe he could help him figure out this puzzle.
***
Daniel worked for The Riverfront Times , a weekly rag supported mainly by advertisements for strip clubs and bars that were handed out free to the public. Occasionally it broke a real news story. In the world of journalism, it was a by-line for Daniel, something that would look good on his resume in retrospect. In reality, it was nothing more than a regular paycheck.
Mike had hoped to catch him at the office. After leaving three voice-mail messages, he was almost asleep when Daniel returned his call. Shaking off the cobwebs, they agreed to meet for a late lunch downtown.
After the waitress with a purposefully exposed cleavage left them alone to eat their toasted ravioli and pizza, they were able to talk.
“Sorry about your dad,” Daniel said through a mouthful deep fried pasta.
“Shit happens,” Mike said. He took a slice from the pizza, but had lost his appetite. “I need you to help me with something, if you can.”
“Yeah, man. Anything.”
“I’m not sure if this is legit.”
“Where I work, that’s our specialty.”
“I want to know if you can find out about a case my Dad would have worked. It’s probably nothing and I doubt you will find anything.”
“So what,” Daniel said as he let out a smelly belch. “I spend most of my day going over copy written by amateurs that wouldn’t be taken seriously by a comic book publisher. I’ll run your dad through all the databases. You would be surprised. We all leave digital footprints. Things you wouldn’t have thought anybody could know are somewhere. It’s a matter of looking in the right place.”
“Thanks, Dan,” Mike said.
“Your dad was a great sheriff. I’m sure I’ll find a ton of stuff.”
Mike almost corrected his friend then stopped himself. His use of the past tense in reference to his father was not that far from wrong.
***
Mike was barely able to get four hours of sleep before his shift. After a quick shower, he threw on jeans and a t-shirt despite the cool northerner coming in. The light jacket that had seemed overkill a couple days before now couldn’t keep him warm.
Quickly walking into the hospital room, worried he was late, he felt little relief in arriving ten minutes early.
“Sorry”, Mike said trying to apologize. “I overslept.”
Uncle Henry was once again kicked back with his boots on the bed. He was reading one of the books Mike had brought with him last night. A paperback Mike had grabbed without much thought from the ‘Oprah’ section about two brothers who sell knives door-to-door for a living. Hell, if she liked it, there was fifty-fifty shot he might as well.
Dog-earing the page to mark his place, Uncle Henry looked his nephew over.
“It’s dang near winter, fella. Where’s your coat?”
“How’s Dad doing?”
“No change.”
Mike wanted to know more.
“Did he say anything?”
“Oh, sure,” Uncle Henry said falsely, “he said if you see that know-it-all boy of mine, tell him to get a coat from my closet.”
“Funny,” Mike said, “you should take that act on the road.”
“Believe I will,” Uncle Henry said. While he put on his coat, he kept hold of the book, shoving it through the sleeve. The pages curled into a thick half-circle. Its cover was now misshapen and creased. Mike almost laughed aloud thinking about how distraught the librarian would be at seeing this.
“Mind if I hang on to this?” Uncle Henry asked waving the book.
“Might as well.”
After he gave his uncle a playful bear-hug goodnight, he took over in the chair. Five minutes into his shift, Mike fell asleep.
***
Mike awoke with a start. He didn’t realize how tired he truly had been. Mad at himself for it, he reconciled his thoughts of inadequacy by vowing to not allow
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